Diary of a Fake
by Venomous Guise
Summary: Harry begins straying from the Light and, after things start to go awry, finds himself in Azkaban. Bitter and exhausted, will he be able to complete his ultimate mission? Written in 100-word drabbles. ON HIATUS.
1. A Broken Introduction

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, don't sue

**A Broken Introduction**

Reality is a faint blur between worlds and everything around is constantly changing. Nothing's real, nothing's fake, and the only constant is change.

You spend your time wallowing in a pool of your own despair, attending a self-made pity party of one. No one understands you anymore; they refuse to believe. They can't (or won't) see that you're suffering, but it doesn't really matter. They'll see soon enough.

Everyone's busy preparing for the Final Battle, and nobody sees that you, their green-eyed savior, are already dead. But I know the truth.

How? It's easy, really.

Simply put, I am you.

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**Review...please?**


	2. Sarcaustic

**Sarcaustic**

This journal will be the key to understanding myself. That's what Hermione said, anyway. She gave it to me for Christmas, saying that if I wouldn't open up to anyone else, I could at least open up to myself.

Open up? Sure, I'll just pour out all my twisted feelings like some lovesick schoolgirl. That's what I'm supposed to do, right? Tell the world about my pathetic and tortured existence through some mysterious diary found years after my tragic demise?

She's probably right, though. That's just how Hermione is.

I guess it couldn't be _that_ hard to keep a diary...

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**A/N:** Yes, I meant _sarcaustic_. As in "sarcastic" and "caustic". What can I say? I love making up words... 


	3. Not Enough

**Not Enough**

I'm starting to doubt this whole "write about your life and you'll understand the universe" thing. It's been a week since I've written in this stupid thing and I don't really feel any different.

Hermione said I've been distant lately. And Ron has been his usual ignorant self. Whatever. It's not like they care anyway.

No, I shouldn't say that. It's not fair to Hermione. She cares- she really does. It's just hard sometimes, you know? Of course not. You're just a book.

Gods, I must be going insane.

But it's not like I have anyone else to talk to.


	4. Unrequited

**Unrequited**

Some say love is a battlefield. I say it's an all-out war.

It's hating yourself for allowing someone to get that close to you, giving them your heart and trusting them not to break it. I won't trust anyone anymore. I've learned my lesson, and it kills me to drop my guard.

I wear a mask just like _he_ does now.

What's holding me back? Fear, of course. And still, nobody knows. Nobody understands. I've felt small all my life, and maybe I've learned to like it. Maybe...

I'm tired of hiding. I really am.

Things will change soon enough.


	5. Erased

**Erased**

"But... why?"

I knew he would ask that damned question. I knew he wouldn't understand. I wanted to say so many things right then, but I didn't. I held back. I simply answered his question.

"I'm tired of living my life on other peoples' strings. I can't survive this way. I don't want to be a puppet or a people pleaser anymore. It's time for me to take action."

"But Harry, I never-"

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Ron. Really, I am. But this is for the best. It's the only way. Hermione understands. Why can't you?"


	6. Hope

**Hope**

Hermione isn't happy about what I did to Ron, but at least she understands. He was a liability. And he was spying on us for the self-appointed Leader of the Light.

Ginny had told us of her brother's treachery, how he had foolishly accepted bribes in exchange for keeping an eye on his now former friends.

I'm truly grateful for Hermione's support. She has been by my side this whole time, even helping in the development of some of my plans. She doesn't necessarily agree with all of my decisions, but we're both glad I've started opening up to her.


	7. Forgotten

**Forgotten**

Hermione said I should try writing poetry, so I did. Go figure.

I only hope this poem isn't so horrible that it makes this book shrivel up. Or burst into inky flames. That would be tragic.

_a bleeding rose  
lost in its glory  
crushed  
drops at my feet  
its beauty fades  
and slowly dies  
losing all  
back into the shadows i crawl  
my image falters  
a once clear reflection  
now scattered by a tear  
my vision blurs  
i drop to the ground  
a fallen angel  
once again  
is this the end?  
alone i pray  
to no one__  
heaven's now forgotten  
_

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**A/N**: The capitalization in Harry's poem is intentional. And yes, I wrote it, so no stealing. 

Also, I know some of you are wondering what happened to Ron, but that's not going to be revealed until later chapters. Sorry. I will tell you this, though: he's not dead, dying, or seriously injured.


End file.
